


(Pour Some) Sugar on Me

by songofthe52hertzwhale



Category: Dalton Academy Series
Genre: Drug Use, M/M, Sex, Sugar Baby, Sugar Daddy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-07
Updated: 2018-10-29
Packaged: 2019-07-08 06:54:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15925193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/songofthe52hertzwhale/pseuds/songofthe52hertzwhale
Summary: Vignettes from my sugar baby!Julian verse, including his pre-Logan exploits.





	1. I was at Coachella, leaning on your shoulder

**Author's Note:**

> As promised, a continuation of sugar baby!Julian. Non-chronological snippets of his relationships with Clark Sawyer, Cameron Pike, Sebastian Smythe, Logan Wright...and Adam Clavell. :)

Julian’s head feels _bubbly_.

It’s a nice feeling, a soft haziness that makes him feel so _warm_. He leans backward, lets his head loll onto the shoulder of the man behind him. It’s so nice here, sitting in the man’s lap like this. Clark chuckles a little, tightens the arms around Julian’s waist and presses his lips to the smaller man’s neck.

“Good, isn’t it? Sinny hooked us up.”

“I’m floating,” Julian says, “Never felt like this before.”

His hands find Clark’s arms, and he wraps his fingers around the man’s forearms. He can feel Clark _everywhere_ , the heat of his skin a blazing fire. He wants it everywhere.

“Hey now,” Clark says, amused, as Julian squirms in his lap, “There are people here.”

“Then make them _leave_ ,” Julian whines, and Clark chuckles again.

“It’s a music festival, baby. They paid a lot of money to be here.”

“Well you pay _me_ a lot of money to be here. Make them leave.”

One of Clark’s large hands slides up Julian’s chest, coming up to cup his chin. He tilts Julian’s head the right way, meets his lips in a heated kiss that makes Julian whine. He pulls away too soon, and Julian sinks into him as Clark’s lips press to his temple instead.

“You wanted to see this band, remember?”

“I’m gonna _die_ ,” Julian says, a bit dramatically, “If you don’t touch me, I’m gonna die.”

“You’re not gonna die.”

“I might. It’s a thing. I read an article once.”

“Oh you did, did you?” Clark’s hands shift again, sliding across the bare skin of Julian’s chest, down to the waistband of the tiny shorts he’d chosen to wear, “I like this, you know.”

“My outfit?”

“Not sure you can really call it an outfit.”

“It _is_ ,” Julian insists, “It was very expensive.”

“I’m sure,” Clark’s fingers brush against the skin of Julian’s thighs, “They probably charged extra for all the rips and tears, didn’t they?”

“You complaining?”

“Do you hear me complaining?”

“I hear you _talking_ instead of touching me.”

Clark’s hand shifts, two fingers slipping past one of the rips in the denim. They brush against the side of Julian’s dick, and he shivers.

“This what you want, baby?”

Julian nods, a little desperately. He can feel Clark move behind him, knows he’s looking around the crowd. For the most part, nobody’s paying attention to them. The place is absolutely packed, huddled groups of young people strewn all over the grass.

“Hey, Rae?” Clark calls, and a dark head turns their way, lips quirking a little at the sight, “Could we borrow that extra blanket, please?”

“Here, really? Little skanky, isn’t it?”

“The blanket. Now.”

Raven must toss it over, because Julian’s suddenly covered in a red-and-blue striped monstrosity from the waist down.

“It’s _scratchy_.”

“Don’t worry,” Clark kisses his ear, “I’ll kiss it better tonight.”

It’s a bit of a feat, maneuvering Julian out of his shorts without revealing his bared skin to the general public. But Clark manages almost easily. He lifts Julian’s hips with one hand, brings the other to the plug he’d slipped inside just this morning. It’s kept Julian wondrously, conveniently open, and the emptiness Julian feels when it slides out of him is agonizing.

But Clark shushes him, pressing his lips against Julian’s neck once more, “It’s okay, baby. I got you.”

He pulls Julian further back, tilts his hips, and—

 _“Oh_ …”

“Not too loud, angel. Wouldn’t want to make it obvious.”

Somewhere nearby, someone clears their throat — Mikey? Corey? — and mutters out a _“it’s pretty obvious already”_ , but Clark and Julian ignore it.

Clark’s so _big_ , bigger than any man Julian’s ever been with. It aches every time, no matter how prepared Julian is. But it’s also so gloriously, beautifully _delicious_.

He throws one arm backwards, wrapping it around Clark’s shoulder and twining his fingers in the blonde curls at the base of Clark’s head. Clark does most of the work, thankfully — Julian’s not sure he has the mental capacity to _move_ right now. But Clark’s so _good_ , always taking care of him just the way he needs. He rolls his hips upward, syncing up perfectly with the way he’s manhandling Julian’s hips.

Julian can’t help the whimper that breaks free from his lips. He tries to keep quiet, he really does. But Clark makes him feel so _full_ , and the drug still coursing through his veins sets his every nerve ending on fire.

“You’re fucking beautiful, you know that?” Clark whispers, breath hot against Julian’s skin, “Wanna keep you here, just like this. You’re so good for me, baby.”

It’s too much. The oversensitivity, the heat, the press of Clark’s lips against his skin. It’s so _much_ , and Julian can’t handle it.

“I can’t,” he breathes, trembling, “Clark, I can’t, I _can’t_ …”

“You can, baby,” Clark says, his own voice as shaky as Julian feels, “You _can_ , you’re so close, aren’t you? I can feel it. Come on, baby.”

It’s Clark’s voice in his ear that does it.

Or maybe it’s the real of his hands on Julian’s skin.

The thickness of his cock, the way it stretches Julian open so beautifully.

The heat coursing through Julian’s body, or the thrill of knowing _anyone_ could look at them like this.

Clark must know it’s happening before Julian. He presses their mouths together, swallowing the choked-off moan of Julian’s orgasm. He collapses, stays upright only thanks to Clark’s strong arms. He blacks out, momentarily, comes to only when a stream of cool water runs past his lips.

“Hey,” Clark’s saying softly, “Hey, you okay? Fuck, Julian, are you okay?”

Julian whimpers, pushing away the bottle against his face, “’s _cold_.”

“I’m sorry. You kinda—you freaked me out, a little. Was it too much?”

“No,” Julian shakes his head. His shorts are back on, somehow, and he’s shifted position in Clark’s lap—he’s almost being cradled, now, and the other boys keep shooting worried looks his way, “I’m okay. Sorry, I think—the drugs, and the sex—it was a lot, all at once.”

“But you’re okay now?” Clark brushes a strand of hair off Julian’s forehead, “You don’t need to leave? We can go back to the hotel.”

“I wanna stay,” Julian insists, “We haven’t even seen _Lana_ yet.”

It's not a lie. He does feel fine. More than fine, really. He leans upward, presses a soft kiss to Clark's lips and gives him a winning smile. 

"...okay," Clark says, after a momentary hesitation, "But let's keep it a little tamer, alright?"

Julian pouts, "You don't pay me for  _tame_."

"I pay you to spend time with me," Clark says patiently, "Believe me, I'm getting my money's worth with the cuddles alone."

"Well  _I_ want more."

Clark smiles, softly, "You can have anything you want. Promise."


	2. you can be my daddy tonight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shameless daddy kink up ahead

Cameron Pike is exactly the type of guy that’s always gotten Julian’s attention.

He has a _thing_ for older men, one he’s been aware of long before it was really appropriate. And Cameron’s just the type of older man he likes — unbelievably attractive, wealthy, unable to keep his eyes off of Julian. He’s caring, but domineering. He’ll make Julian breakfast, but also order him to drop to his knees. Will tuck Julian into bed after he fucks him boneless.

It’s exactly what Julian needs.

“It smells good,” he says, swinging his legs a little from his perch on Cameron’s kitchen counter, “Basil?”

“Among other things,” Cameron answers, stirring the sauce he’s been working on. He scoops some up, blows gently, and holds the spoon to Julian’s lips, “Taste.”

The sauce is warm on his tongue, a burst of flavors that make him hum. His palate isn’t quite as refined as the wealthy men who seek his company, but he recognizes delicious food when he tastes it. He makes a point of moaning around the spoon, lets his eyes droop closed for a second.

“Delicious,” he murmurs, and Cameron seems pleased. He sets the spoon down, brings his finger to Julian’s lips, and wipes off the few drops of sauce his tongue hadn’t caught. Julian watches as Cameron slides that finger into his own mouth, his lips pursing around it.

“Hm,” he says, thoughtfully, “Think it could use more salt.”

The moan as Cameron pulls away isn’t faked, not at all. Cam has a habit of this, of _almost_ giving Julian what he wants before he steps back, always teasing Julian with just enough touch to make him antsy. It’s infuriating, and _cruel_ , and so, _so_ hot.

He watches Cameron move around the kitchen, sprinkling a bit more salt into his sauce and moving to the pasta, next. There’s a salad, too, but Cameron had refused Julian’s offer to help chop vegetables.

 _“I want to take care of you,”_ Cameron had told him, _“You just sit there looking pretty for me. I like the view_.”

So Julian has nothing to do but sit, but watch Cameron putter around the kitchen and wait for a moment of his attention. He doesn’t get it until Cameron’s set the table, has transferred the food he prepared into nice dishes and poured two glasses of wine. He pulls out a chair, sits on the soft cushion, and raises an eyebrow Julian’s way.

Julian makes a show of sliding off the counter, arching his back and swaying his hips as he strides forward. Cameron’s long fingers wrap around his wrist once he’s close enough, and he’s pulled into the older man’s lap, held in place by a firm arm around his waist.

“You have plenty of chairs, you know.”

“I want you here,” Cameron’s voice is firm, authoritative. It sends a shiver down Julian’s spine, and his teeth dig into his lower lip. But Cameron seems unaffected by their close proximity. He scoops up a forkful of pasta, feeds Julian before feeding himself.

Cameron’s arm doesn’t stay around Julian’s waist for long. They’re barely halfway through dinner when his hand starts to migrate, and Julian’s breath hitches as a large hand slides down to his thigh. Cameron’s fingers are long, and when his hand flexes Julian can feel it _all over_.

“Don’t you like your food, baby boy? I worked hard on it, you know.”

Julian’s breath hitches.

So _that’s_ the kind of mood Cameron’s in tonight.

“Yes, daddy,” he breathes.

Cameron makes a soft, pleased noise, scoops up a wine glass and holds it to Julian’s lips. It’s a rich red, something expensive and not as sweet as Julian prefers. Still, he takes a sip, lets Cameron take care of him just the way he likes.

“Is it good, baby?”

Julian nods, turns his head to the side. His nose brushes against Cameron’s, “You wanna taste?”

They shouldn’t have bothered with the two glasses, really. Cameron _always_ tastes the wine from Julian’s lips, every single time. He does now, leans in and licks at Julian’s mouth until he moans.

“All full?” Cameron asks, pushing the food aside, “You all good, baby?”

Julian nods, feeling a little desperate.

“What’s that?”

“Yes, daddy.”

“Good boy,” Cameron lifts Julian off his lap, sets him on the ground and stands up. Instead of leading Julian to the bedroom, though, he reaches for the half-empty dishes, and Julian whines, “What was that, Julian?”

Julian swallows, “Nothing.

“That’s what I thought.”

Julian shifts from foot to foot as Cameron gathers up the dishes, watches in anticipation as he rinses them out and slides them into the dishwasher. Watches as Cameron cleans up after himself, wiping down the countertops and tossing out their used napkins. He finally looks up, his eyes running over Julian’s form.

“Bed,” he says, voice low, “I’ll meet you there in a minute.”

He’s immensely grateful for the order. He’s worn his tightest pants for tonight, the leather ones that always make Cameron a little crazy. They’ve done the job, of course, but they’re so _constricting_ , and Julian needs them off. He hurries to the bedroom, slips out of the tight leather and his loose white shirt, and climbs up onto the bed. Cameron’s never consistent, with how he wants him — sometimes ass up, sometimes flat on his back, sometimes against the wall or folded over some piece of furniture. Julian gives it his best guess, stretches out on his side and waits for the man to step in.

Cameron brings fresh glasses of wine with him, and a plate that appears to hold chocolate-covered strawberries.

“You’re spoiling me, daddy,” Julian says, keeping that light lilt to his voice that always leads to a good time. Cameron smirks a little, sets the plate and glasses down on the nightstand and sits on the edge of the bed. His eyes roam over Julian’s now naked body, and one hand trails lightly up Julian’s calf.

“You deserve it, baby,” he says, “You deserve to be spoiled.”

He reaches for a strawberry with his free hand, holds it to Julian’s lips and watches with dark eyes as Julian takes it in his mouth. Julian moans around the fruit, keeps his own gaze fixed on Cameron’s face as he eats it. He lets Cameron feed him another one, this time letting his tongue brush against the older man’s fingers as he takes it.

“Someone’s feeling bold,” Cameron says, but he doesn’t pull his hand away. Instead, he slips his finger further between Julian’s lips, lets Julian take it in his mouth and _suck_.

He can’t help but feel smug when Cameron moans, when he _finally_ abandons the plate of berries and climbs fully onto the bed. His hand moves from Julian’s mouth, but he replaces it with his lips before Julian can muster a complaint. Cameron likes being in charge, Julian knows, and so he lets his hands wander, lets Cameron take the lead on this.

But Cameron always takes _so long_ pulling his own clothes off, and Julian’s not exactly patient.

“Careful, baby boy,” he says, when Julian starts to paw at his shirt, “This is expensive, you know.”

“It’s in my way,” Julian whines, pouting prettily, “I wanna _feel_ you, daddy.”

He’s gotten practice in dealing with Cameron. Knows exactly how to convince him to do what he wants. He watches Cameron peel off his shirt, licks his lips and reaches for the man’s abs. They’re so nice, firm and unyielding beneath his hands, and Julian wants to get his mouth on them.

But that’s not the kind of night Cameron has in mind.

Instead, Julian’s left to merely watch as Cameron undresses. He’s so _slow_ , his movements deliberate as he folds his clothes and sets them aside. Stares as Cameron reaches for his nightstand, pulls out the lube and condoms he always keeps well-stocked.

Once Cameron’s ready, he stares down at Julian, his gaze thoughtful. He brings one hand to Julian’s left thigh, pats at the soft skin, “Up.”

Julian knows what he wants. He lifts his leg, winding it around Cameron’s waist. It gives the man a good angle to work with, makes it easier for Cameron to slip a well-lubed finger inside.

“Fuck,” Julian whimpers, “Yeah, daddy, right there.”

“I’ve barely even touched you,” Cameron says, sliding a second finger in, “Are you that desperate for it, baby?”

“ _Please_ ,” Julian begs, “Please, I need to feel it. I need to feel you.”

“Please what?”

Julian moans, “Please, daddy.”

The initial stretch as Cameron slides inside is almost painful. But Julian likes it like this, _loves_ feeling so gloriously full of Cameron’s cock. He’s not the biggest Julian’s been with — that honor would go to Clark — but he certainly knows how to work with what he’s got, and Julian’s never had any complaints.

“Like this?” Cameron breathes, once he’s fully inside of him, “You like it just like this, don’t you?”

Julian can’t even form words. He slides his hands up Cameron’s chest, digs his fingernails into the man’s firm biceps and _keens_.

“Tell me, baby,” Cameron says, rolling his hips, “Tell me how much you like this.”

“ _Love_ it,” Julian gasps, “I need it. Please, daddy…”

Cameron doesn’t hold back.

He never does, once they’re here.

He’ll torture Julian with how slow he moves all day, but the moment they’re connected like this, he lets loose. Julian _loves_ it. Loves the way Cameron’s hands pull at his hair, the way Cameron presses their mouths together as he thrusts inside. The way he holds Julian’s wrists down, the filthy, _filthy_ things he whispers in his ear.

“You’re so _tight_ , baby,” he says now, his breath hot against Julian’s neck, “So tight for me, always. Feel so damn good around me.”

“ _Please_ ,” Julian begs, “Please, I need—please, daddy.”

Cameron shifts, the change in angle making Julian cry out. He brings one hand down to Julian’s cock, wraps his long fingers around him and strokes.

“Be a good boy for me, won’t you?” Cameron murmurs, as he tugs at Julian’s cock, “You’re always so good for me, baby. Be good now, won’t you? Come for me, baby boy.”

It doesn’t take much. A particularly skillful flick of Cameron’s wrist, a hard thrust inside, and Julian’s mouth falls open in a silent scream. Cameron doesn’t stop, his hips still moving as Julian trembles.

“You need this, don’t you?” He pants, “You need me inside you. Need me filling you up. Don’t you, baby?”

Julian can barely _think_. He opens his mouth to reply, but Cameron’s tongue is suddenly inside, and he moans against the man’s lips.

“Say it,” Cameron hisses, their mouths still pressed together, “Say it, Julian.”

Julian shivers. He reaches a hand up, brings it around to cup the back of Cameron’s head and twists his fingers through the dark hair.

“ _Daddy_.”

Cameron collapses on top of him. He’s heavy, a warm, familiar weight atop Julian’s chest. Julian keeps his hand in Cameron’s hair, running it through the dark curls that fall across his neck.

“Fuck,” Cameron gasps, once he’s regained his breath, “How long has it been?”

“Two weeks, I think?”

“Way too long,” Cameron rolls off of Julian, sliding out and tossing the condom in the trashcan beside his bed, “I don’t like when you’re busy.”

“What can I say?” Julian stretches out, enjoying the feel of Cameron’s silk sheets against his skin, “I’m very popular.”

“I can see why.”

Cameron leans in, presses another soft kiss to Julian’s lips and smiles at him.

“I did go through a lot of trouble getting these strawberries last minute,” he says, pushing Julian’s hair from his forehead, “It’d be a shame if you didn’t get to enjoy them.”

Julian grins, leaning into his touch, “I suppose I could stay, for a little while. For the strawberries, you know.”

Cameron smirks, "For the strawberries, then."


	3. you say you wanna make me smile and see my wild side

“Hang on,” Julian sets his coffee cup down, brings his fingers up to press against his temples, “You want me…to meet your _family_?”

“Not all of them,” Sebastian clarifies, “My dad and Reginald are at some conference in Lisbon, so it’s just my mom and Alphonse.”

“Sebastian, you know this isn’t—” Julian takes a breath, blinks a few times, “I’m not your boyfriend.”

“Oh god,” Sebastian looks horrified, “No, I didn’t mean—I don’t _want_ a boyfriend, I told you that. It’s just that they’ve kind of been on my case about it, and they keep trying to set me up with these dull family friends, and I thought maybe if I brought someone along they’d get off my back?”

“So you want me to _pretend_ to be your boyfriend.”

“That’s right.”

Julian breathes a sigh of relief, “Okay. What kind of boyfriend, exactly?”

Sebastian shrugs, “Doesn’t really matter. As long as I bring _someone_ they’ll be happy, I think.”

“Seb. They’re rich. They’re in politics. They care.”

“Fine, then,” Sebastian sips at his latte and considers, “I can take care of your clothes, I suppose. I know what my mom’s tastes are. We can say you’re an heir to some oil conglomerate. That’s a normal American thing, right?”

“…not really.”

“Eh, they’ll believe it.”

“I don’t know, Seb…”

“I’ll pay double.”

Julian raises an eyebrow, “Double. To schmooze with your mom and little brother for a weekend.”

“Plus new clothes. My mother has a pretty fantastic personal chef, too, so the food’ll be great.”

“Okay. Yeah. I think I could manage a weekend of pretending to be some fancy rich heir to…an oil conglomerate. Where did you say they live, again?”

“Paris.”

“…France?”

“Yes,” Sebastian looks amused, “Paris, France.”

“You’re taking me to _Paris_?”

“…I should have started with that, huh?”

Sebastian grins at the look of excited delight on Julian’s face. He opens his laptop immediately, starts adding Mrs. Smythe-approved items of clothing to his shopping cart.

It’s easy enough, to impress Sebastian’s family. A few well-timed jokes to his mother has her eating out of the palm of his hand, and Sebastian’s brother seems excited just to be treated like an adult. In fact, by the end of the first day, Alphonse has all but plastered himself to Julian’s side, asking him endless questions about his likes and dislikes, his favorite movies and bands.

At night though, Sebastian takes him out to actually _see_ Paris.

“My brother loves you,” he says, casually slipping his hand into Julian’s as they stroll down the Champs-Élysées, “He totally lied about liking baseball, by the way. Think he only said it because you mentioned playing for a year in high school.”

Julian laughs, “He’s sweet. He really likes you, too. Said he wished you visited more.”

Sebastian winces, “Yeah. I probably should. Just hate my dad trying to convince me to go into politics, you know? And mom and Reg are always judging my life choices…but I do miss Al.”

“I’d visit just for _Paris_ ,” Julian sighs dreamily, looking around at the bright lights, “I could live here, I think.”

“I could see it,” Sebastian says thoughtfully, “Find yourself some rich boyfriend or girlfriend, spend your days shopping and grabbing fancy coffees.”

“And macarons,” Julian adds.

Sebastian laughs, “And macarons, of course.”

They continue on their walk. Sebastian humors Julian’s touristy mood, drags him onto the roof of a restaurant he knows of to show him a fantastic view of the Eiffel Tower lit up at night. Julian looks like a little kid, staring out at the view, and Sebastian can’t help but lean in to kiss his cheek.

“Thank you for doing this,” he murmurs, “The whole family thing. I know it’s not exactly part of our deal.”

“It’s fine,” Julian says, smiling, “If I’m gonna advertise being able to give the _boyfriend experience_ , I need to deliver, right? Besides, you brought me to _Paris_. I think I’m getting the better end of the deal, here.”

Sebastian hesitates for a moment, “You know. I’m not really the boyfriend type. Monogamy and all that isn’t exactly my thing. But if it was…if I _was_ , I think I’d want a boyfriend like you.”

“Well I can’t blame you,” Julian tries to keep his voice light, the conversation dangerously close to _not okay_ territory, “I’m pretty amazing. Smoking hot, too.”

“You are,” Sebastian grins, and one hand slides down to Julian’s hip, “You know…I have my own apartment near here. No pesky family members hanging around. A big bed. Comfy pillows.”

“Oh yeah? Is it all um— _stocked_ , or should we stop at a pharmacy first?”

“Julian Larson,” Sebastian says, faux-scandalized, “I wasn’t suggesting _that_. What happened to that big speech you gave me when we first met, about how you’re not a prostitute? That this was all about keeping me _company_?”

“Well that was before you started giving me mind-blowing orgasms.”

“Hm. Yes, fair point,” Sebastian slips a hand into Julian’s back pocket, pulling him along, “Good thing I’m _always_ prepared.”

He leads Julian down the street a couple blocks, nods at the doorman standing in the entryway. They manage not to get _too_ handsy in the elevator, Sebastian’s hand staying very firmly above Julian’s waistline.

Until, of course, they reach Sebastian’s apartment.

They don’t even bother with the lights. The moment the door closes behind them, Sebastian pushes Julian up against the wall, pressing their lips together hard. It’s an odd, stumbling dance to the bed, and Julian can’t help but giggle a little as he falls back onto the mattress.

“You were right,” he says, as they adjust a little, “ _Very_ comfortable.”

“Less talking, Larson.”

He manages to strip Julian out of his slacks and sweater quicker than expected. Julian moans as Sebastian climbs on top of him, spreads his legs and lets the other man slide his fingers inside. Sebastian’s voice is intoxicating in his ear, murmuring all kinds of things about how _beautiful_ Julian is, how _tight_ he is, how much Sebastian _loves_ having him in his bed.

Sebastian’s not the biggest Julian’s been with, but the stretch as he slides inside is still _glorious_. Julian’s fingernails dig into Sebastian’s shoulders, and he whimpers, winds one leg around Sebastian’s waist.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” Sebastian pants, “So _good_ , baby.”

“Less talking, _Smythe_.”

Sebastian, for once, listens.

He buries his face in the curve of Julian’s neck, presses his lips against warm skin as he thrusts into him. He’s very much the gentleman in bed, making sure that Julian comes first. But he’s not far after, his teeth digging into Julian’s skin as his orgasm washes over him.

Julian smiles a little, when Sebastian collapses on top of him a sweaty, trembling mess. He only barely has the mental capacity to pull out, after, and Julian slides his hands over Sebastian’s skin.

“Am I really that good? Rendering you totally speechless, like this?”

“You have _no_ idea.”

Sebastian finally shifts off of him, leaves one arm wound around Julian’s waist and presses a gentle kiss to Julian’s cheek. It’s soft, a little sweet, and Julian feels his stomach twist.

He’s noticed Sebastian looking at him differently, lately, the way his eyes sometimes soften after a kiss. It’s more than they’d agreed on, more than Julian expected on getting in to, and he’s not quite sure how to handle it.

He waits for the sounds of soft snoring, looks over to make sure Sebastian’s really asleep. Then he leans over the bed, reaches for his discarded pants and slips his cell phone from the pocket.

There’s a message waiting, from the website he uses. Someone new — _Logan W._ — whose introductory e-mail has lingered in his inbox for days. He’d only briefly glanced as the message, telling himself he doesn’t have the time to introduce a fourth man to his roster.

But maybe he’s spending too much time with his current guys. Maybe someone new is just what he needs.

He hesitates a moment, glances at Sebastian once more, then taps the _reply_ button.


	4. if he likes me, takes me home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All the trigger warnings for this one.

Adam’s one of the first.

He’s still new at this whole thing, still trying to figure out the rules and boundaries of charging money for dates. Clark’s his only permanent client — and _ugh_ , does he hate that word — for now, but Friday dinners alone won’t pay his rent.

Adam approaches him in much the same way as Clark. Julian logs into his camming profile one night, scrolls through an endless list of messages and unsolicited dick pics. There’s only one message that actually has full _sentences_ , and it grabs Julian’s attention.

 _I really enjoyed your show last night. You mentioned something about branching out a little. Forgive me if I’m misinterpreting, but I’d very much like to take you out. I have some business in the city next week, if you’re free. Just name your price_.

The little research Julian’s done so far has taught him to upsell himself. He has a vague notion of the average price people ask for something like this, knows his good looks give him a little bit of wiggle room. Still, the number he sends back is much higher than he actually anticipates. It might scare the man off, but Julian hopes he’s at least open to negotiation.

Much to his surprise, though, the man _agrees_ to the number he’d asked, sends back his acceptance along with a time and location: a _very_ nice cocktail bar downtown, one known for overpriced drinks and jazz bands. It’s a little out of Julian’s depth, but with enough googling and faking it, he can probably manage.

The outfit is the hardest thing to nail down.

The _look_ he curates online is pretty stereotypical. Thin, form-fitting clothes, pieces that can be easily slipped off for his adoring audience. The majority of his viewers seem to like it when he works the _young_ angle, his youthful features serving a distinct advantage when it comes to the pervier men that watch his shows.

But he’s not sure he can show up to a ritzy bar looking like a male stripper.

It takes him seven outfit changes to find something he likes. He finally settles on a pair of slightly-too-tight black slacks, a sheer white shirt topped with a gold sequined jacket. It’s just the smallest bit over-the-top, still classy enough that he’ll get into the club without much issue.

Adam’s not quite what he expected.

He’s not _unattractive_ , but he’s not exactly Julian’s normal type. His clothes are clearly expensive, but not exactly the kind of outfit Julian would’ve selected for a place like this. He looks almost uncomfortable in his own skin.

But his greeting is entirely _too_ comfortable.

Julian’s too taken aback to stop the man from pulling him into a kiss, one hand dipping to Julian’s lower back. It’s the kind of greeting one would expect between two people in an established romantic relationship, not between two total strangers in a financial arrangement.

But maybe this is the kind of thing Julian _should_ be expecting.

He smiles sweetly when Adam breaks the kiss, lets the man keep his arm around his waist, “Hi. That was certainly a greeting.”

“Well. I have to get my money’s worth, don’t I? I’d hate to think you wouldn’t make good on your promises.”

There’s an intense look in his eyes, one that makes Julian a little uneasy. It’s just a joke, he tells himself, a little in poor taste, maybe. But if Adam’s the type of guy who has to _pay_ for dates, maybe he’s just a little socially awkward. Harmless.

Adam’s arm tightens around Julian’s waist as they enter the club.

“So,” Julian says lightly, tilting his head in a way he knows will make his eyes catch the light, “What do you do for a living, Adam?”

“Nothing important,” the man waves off the question, “Financial stuff. Boring, really. I’d rather talk about you.”

“Well then,” Julian slides into the chair Adam pulls out for him, leans over the table and rests his chin in his hand, “What do you want to know about me?”

“Everything.”

Julian raises an eyebrow, “Well. What’s your type?”

Adam levels him with a look, “I don’t have a type.”

“Everyone has a type.”

“Not me,” Adam says, “But I’m interested in _you_ , isn’t that enough?”

“A lot of people are interested in me.”

Adam presses his lips together, “Perhaps. But you’re here with _me_ aren’t you?”

Ah. The jealous type. Julian smiles, extends one leg to brush against Adam’s ankle, “I’m all yours tonight, don’t you worry.”

Adam’s not a hard man to peg. Julian can tell in _seconds_ that he doesn’t exactly like to talk about himself. So Julian takes over the conversation himself, tossing in half-true anecdotes that always make his fans laugh. He flirts just enough to keep the man wanting more. Julian _knows_ the effect he has on men.

Adam’s fork freezes midway to his mouth when Julian dips his finger into his wine glass and licks it clean. His eyes darken at the way Julian leans close to snag a stuffed mushroom from his date’s plate.

It’s so _easy_.

They’ve only just finished their entrée when Adam brings it up — the dessert hasn’t even been ordered yet, and Julian already has him begging for it.

“Is you coming home with me on the table?” He asks, laying one large hand over Julian’s own, “I know I should have brought it up in my message…”

“I don’t know,” Julian says, a light lilt to his voice, “That’s extra. And I can be _very_ expensive.”

“Money isn’t an issue.”

In retrospect, that’s probably the point of the night where Julian should have second-guessed all of this. That Adam didn’t even need an estimate at a number, that he was so set on bringing him home so quickly. But Julian’s _new_ at this, and Clark has been so good to him, and maybe Julian’s always had a bit of an issue with trusting too easily.

So he lets Adam take him home.

He lets the man get handsy in the cab, shifts close and kneads at Adam’s thigh to pique his interest.

It’s a hotel, that they wind up at. A nice one, and Julian doesn’t miss when Adam presses the button for the goddamn _penthouse_ in the elevator. He steps out first, spins around the room in a slow circle, admiring the extravagance. He tries to make a move to the floor-to-ceiling windows, tempted by the _gorgeous_ views of the city he can only just make out.

But then Adam’s hands are on him, spinning him around before he’s caught in a bruising kiss.

Okay, so he’s the more dominating type.

Julian can deal with that.

Julian _likes_ being manhandled a little bit.

But then Adam’s pawing at his clothes, shoving him roughly backwards. Julian nearly trips over himself, kept aloft only by Adam’s tight grip on his arms. It _hurts_ a little bit, when he’s thrown back onto a bed, but at least the mattress and pillows are soft.

The rest, Julian can handle.

Normally, at least.

Adam’s a little more…forceful, than Julian’s accustomed to. It’s not that he’s _uncomfortable_ , exactly, just a little surprised. Confused.

The flash of metal, though, the silver glinting in the light — _that_ makes him jerk away.

“What are you _doing_?” He yelps, drawing his knees to his chest.

Adam looks mildly annoyed, “Relax. It won’t _hurt_. If this is a problem, I’ll pay extra.”

“It’s not about the _money_. That’s a fucking _knife_.”

“Your profile says you’re _down for anything_ ,” Adam quotes, pressing the flat end of the blade against Julian’s ribs, “You’re not gonna go back on your word, are you? You want your money? I promise it won’t hurt too bad.”

Every inch of Julian’s body is screaming at him to leave. To get the hell out of this fucked-up situation, to high-tail it outta here and never look back. To delete every shred of social media he is, erase any trace of this persona he’s slipped into far too easily.

But his rent is due. The bills are piling up. And he’s _here_ , in a hotel room with this man who’ll do who knows what if he tries to leave now.

So he goes numb. Shuts off his brain at that first press of sharp metal against his skin. Ignores everything that comes after — the pleased noises, the exploring hands, the touching.

Adam _kisses_ him when he hands the cash over. Cradles Julian’s face like he’s something precious, like he hasn’t just left a spiderweb of scars across his skin. Tells him how much he looks forward his next video, how much he wants to see him again, if Julian wouldn’t mind.

He has no idea what his response is.

The numbness doesn’t fully wear off until he’s leaning against the front door of his own apartment, the folded bills burning a hole in his pocket. He stumbles to the shower, strips out of his clothes and turns the water to the hottest setting he can stand.

It’s there that he breaks. There, in the dingy shower of his one-bedroom apartment, where he collapses. Where he curls in a ball on the floor, letting the water burn his torn skin. Every ounce of him hurts, inside and outside, and the tears that spill from his eyes feel hotter than the steaming water raining down on him.

It’s there that he decides that this won’t end him. This _never happened_ , he decides. He never responded to that message. Never went to that lounge. Never followed Adam home. Never let Adam touch him.

He still doesn’t move, not until the water chills to an icy-cold. He avoids looking in the mirror as he wraps himself in a thick robe, neglects the lights in his bedroom and crawls into bed.

This never happened.

Except, of course, that it had.


End file.
